


My Children

by coward_with_coffee



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:06:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coward_with_coffee/pseuds/coward_with_coffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tourists were often too interested to acknowledge the lone bench and citizens simply viewed it as a waste of space. One a month, though, Veneziano Italy would sit on that very bench and watch his people walk past him as he remained unnoticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Children

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fanfiction which I had ever written so I apologize for the quality of this.

The Colosseum was located in Rome, the heart of the Republic of Italy. The landmark towered over the metropolis of the industrialized region of Rome. Citizens and tourists alike flocked the streets near the large monument just to view the architectural masterpiece. It had risen during the reign of the Roman Empire, had endured the fall of the mighty empire and still stood strong in the centre of Rome, watching over the country’s cherished people. There was a bench which was located near the magnificent landmark. It was not in any way special with its oak base and black metallic reinforcement. Tourists were often too interested to acknowledge the lone bench and citizens simply viewed it as a waste of space. Once a month, though, Veneziano Italy would sit on that very bench and watch his people walk past him as he remained unnoticed. 

It was on an overcast July afternoon when a young girl had run up to the bench and stared straight at Italy’s liquid amber irises. Her hazel hair was falling out of her pigtails and her blue dress was messy. The sky was dull and gusts of cool wind blew loose leaves off trees and into the streets. “Excuse me, mister. Why do you always come here?” She had asked him, curiosity burning in her emerald green eyes. Italy had loved conversing with the people of his country. Cheerfully, he replied “Well, young miss, I don’t really know.” He paused for a moment, concern temporarily washing over his features “You know, you shouldn’t talk to strangers.” She simply giggled and replied, as if her answer was obvious “You’re not a stranger, though. You seem familiar!” It was a strange phenomenon that the people of his country often approached him as if they had known him for years. He smiled at the child “Is that so?” he said. The child appeared to be around seven or eight years old, judging by her missing front teeth and chubby features. She was about to say something, when a worried voice interrupted her “Mia, where are you?” She seemed disappointed when her mother (presumably) had caught sight of her and began walking toward the bench. The child was a splitting image of the woman, the main difference being their expression. Mia was grinning from ear to ear whilst her mother was scowling. “Oh gosh, Mia, what did I tell you about running off?” The woman stared at Veneziano for a moment and muttered an apology. Grabbing hold of the girl’s hand, she walked away whist lecturing the young girl, leaving Italy alone.

The brunette’s bright grin faded to a small smile as he fell into deep thought. He loved interacting with his people. In a sense, they were the children of his country. Each and every single human contributed to the culture- it was their use of his language that gave his words meaning, their family recipes created traditional foods, their hard work which made his country the place it was and more importantly, it was their existence which enabled his.


End file.
